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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23757673">Echoes of the Blizzard</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/AzimuthZero/pseuds/AzimuthZero'>AzimuthZero</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Drabbles [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Frozen (Disney Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Drabble Collection, F/M, Gen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 17:07:46</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,453</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23757673</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/AzimuthZero/pseuds/AzimuthZero</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of unrelated prompt drabbles and ficlets set in the <em>Frozen</em> universe.<br/>Or, if I'm being honest, a dump of random character studies and slice-of-life moments that I came up with while trying to smash through writer's block.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Anna &amp; Elsa (Disney), Anna/Kristoff (Disney)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Drabbles [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1711474</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>22</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. "Puppy Love"</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“I could kiss you!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The words slipped from his lips before he could stop them. His hand flew nervously to his neck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I mean, may I… may we…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>All the worries he had pushed aside for the past two days returned full force. This wasn’t just any girl standing in front of him; this was the Princess of Arendelle. He had no place in her world.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But when she looked at him with those sea-green eyes, suddenly he forgot that he was an orphan boy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We may.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When her lips met his, he forgot that she was a princess, too.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. "Locked"</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The cycle never ends. Ten years of mornings and afternoons spent sitting with my back to that same white door. Ten years spent whispering, calling, </span>
  <em>
    <span>yelling </span>
  </em>
  <span>her name, only for her voice to drift back with the same heartbreaking words.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Go away, Anna.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>We were so close. What changed?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Some days, I think I imagined every happy moment we shared before the door closed. I’d run to Mama and Papa. They’d hug me and kiss me and tell me one day, everything would be okay.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I buried them this morning. Elsa wasn’t there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For once, I try the handle. Locked.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. "Believe"</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>She feared the sea. She still woke to visions of her parents, consumed by the fathomless deep. Dead, because of her. Because of her curse.</p><p>She looked down at her hands, slender fingers seeming so delicate in the moonlight. She could feel the frost creeping at her fingertips, the ice within singing its baleful song of destruction.</p><p>She raised her gaze to the hungry waves. The sea was a place of destruction.</p><p>She clenched her hands to fists. The girl behind a closed door was gone. She was in control now. She believed in a brighter tomorrow.</p><p>Water begot ice.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. "Wasted"</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Sunlight glints dully off worn wooden planks, filtering in through tiny port-holes and thick bars. The floor lists as the ship rides the ocean swells in a nauseating rhythm.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He always hated travelling by sea, and it’s a long way home. Home, where he’ll be received again as a nobody—a </span>
  <em>
    <span>spare</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Home, where his title is diluted to nothing by a sea of other Princes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Arendelle was his chance. Princess Anna was his chance… but he wasted it. Too greedy, too cocky, too foolish.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe his father was right, after all. Hans Westergård is destined to be a failure.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. "Diary"</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Alright, here goes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I’m not one for words. Never written a diary, never gone to a confession. But Yelena says this is different. I used to not believe any of that stuff about the spirits, but it’s kind of hard to deny it now.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s been twelve years since the fog fell. There’s no way out. We stopped sending expeditions a while ago.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I asked Halima out to dinner. She said yes. We had a spot booked at her favourite restaurant by the fjord. Sometimes, I wonder if she’s still waiting for me.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Most nights, I just miss the stars.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. "Weapon"</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He wasn’t the man he used to be.</p><p>He used to have dreams of ivory towers and golden thrones. He used to resent fate for placing him thirteenth in line for a crown that would never be his.</p><p>Three years spent mucking the stables had a way of changing a man’s perspective.</p><p>He no longer cared that he was a pawn in someone else’s power trip. He wasn’t broken; he was numb, and with the numbness came a simpler purpose. One that hurt less.</p><p>He’d wasted his life pining for a crown. Perhaps it was better to be a weapon.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>This is a bit of a character study on the Hans from <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/21932983/chapters/52348189"><em>The Ice Within</em></a>.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Second Chances</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>This one is a bit longer. It was a submission for a Discord writing contest with a limit of 4000 characters. Also, RIP my perfect-multiple-of-100 word count :(</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>I had my suspicions for a while.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The days after the Great Thaw were hectic, to say the least. Queen or not, I’m sure a significant part of Arendelle wanted me locked straight back in the dungeons after what I did. Even for those who weren’t terrified by the prospect of their queen wielding black magic, there was still the matter of the crops I decimated, the ships I destroyed, the alliances I strained—and that’s to say nothing of a certain Prince of the Southern Isles I almost let usurp the Crocus Throne.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It took all my willpower to not retreat back into my room and shut the door on the world again. But things were different, now. The big secret was out, and there was nowhere left to hide. The day had come to take the kingdom into my hands, just as Papa said so long ago. Only Papa wasn’t here to hold my hand anymore, and all the lessons on diplomacy and etiquette in the world weren’t enough to conceal the terrified little girl trying so desperately to hide behind them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If it weren’t for Anna, I probably would have unleashed a dozen more winters in those council chambers. But Anna never left my side.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>How many times had I imagined our reunion during those thirteen years? How many times had I dreamed about opening that door? I was ready for terror, resentment, even hatred after all I put her through. I wasn’t ready for acceptance. I wasn’t ready for her </span>
  <em>
    <span>love</span>
  </em>
  <span>, not after everything I’d done to her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Somehow, Anna didn’t care.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I tried to stop her, to pry her away at first. My magic was still a loose cannon, and I couldn’t bear her closeness. No amount of love would save her if I shot an icicle through her neck. She didn’t listen. She clung to my arm like she thought I would vanish into thin air if she let go for even a second. Despite my own guilt and fear, day by day she slowly became my shelter—the eye of the storm that was now my life. For that, I was infinitely grateful.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>We didn’t say much to each other, in those early days. There was rarely a moment Anna wasn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>talking</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but we didn’t say much. Our conversations felt like Mama’s lessons in ballroom dance, twirling and orbiting endlessly around each other, ever so careful to avoid anything that could make us trip and fall into that thirteen-year-deep chasm that stood between us. If anything, Anna was even more cautious than I was, terrified of saying anything that could make me close that door again, anything that could make her lose me a second time. My heart broke a little every time I noticed, but I could never bring myself to mention it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I wasn’t the only one trying to keep things to myself. Anna came back from “the market” with reindeer hair in her dress and a twinkle in her eyes. I knew about how she snuck out of the castle at night when she thought Kai and Gerda were off duty. And whenever the conversation turned to a certain Kristoff Bjorgman, the flush in her cheeks was all too noticeable.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I still don’t know how I feel about the idea of my little sister in the arms of a rough mountain man. As for Kristoff himself, I haven’t spoken much to him at all. Too busy. It’s such an easy excuse, one that’s dragged out for months. Have I been avoiding him? Perhaps he’s the one avoiding me. After all, I wasn’t exactly hospitable back at the ice palace. He has good reason to be afraid.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Do I really want him to be afraid of me?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Love will thaw. That was the lesson that Anna very nearly paid for with her life. With it, she gave me a second chance. A chance to fix things. A chance to be whole again, even if it takes me the rest of my life to get there.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe that’s what Kristoff was to Anna. An ally in an unlikely place. A friend when she needed one most. A second chance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After what happened with Hans, I wanted to shield my sister from the world and everyone in it. But the truth is, Kristoff has protected Anna from far more than I ever have. If anyone deserves a second chance, it’s him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Presenting the Royal Ice Master and Deliverer, Kristoff Bjorgman.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you, Kai. Open the doors.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. "Run"</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>When it finally happened, all she felt was relief.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>How long did she try to escape her fate? How long had she lived in terror, hiding from this very moment? She’d known from the start it was all in vain. Based on her parents’ hushed conversations overheard through closed doors, they’d known, too. Now, they weren’t here to protect her anymore.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Or, rather, protect everyone else from her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The whispers rising from the crowd were just like she always imagined: words of shock turning to words of accusation, of fear. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Witch. Monster.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>There was only one thing to do. Run.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
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